


Kissing Couch: A Matter of Teleological Debate

by Amuly



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-05
Updated: 2010-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:10:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack discovers a kissing couch in a furniture store and urges Ianto to be creative. PWP</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kissing Couch: A Matter of Teleological Debate

Ianto snapped the locks on the case shut, double-checking their security before stepping back. “Job done. Ready to go?” He turned to Jack, only to find…no Jack. With a heavy sigh, Ianto swept his gaze around the furniture store. Kitchen section: no Jack. Living room displays: no Jack. Bedroom sets, aha…oh. No Jack. Ianto was honestly surprised.

Stepping away from the containment box – the termite-esque colony that they had collected should be fine alone for a few minutes – Ianto continued his exploration of the store. “Jack? Jack, where are…oh.”

Rounding a corner, Ianto came face-to-face – or rather, navel-to-face – with Jack. He was sitting on an odd little wrought-iron chair, insane grin stretching his mouth. “Ianto! Come here! I found a kissing couch!”

“Kissing couch?” Ianto examined the couch. It was more properly two chairs stuck together, in Ianto’s opinion. Stuck together, but facing opposite directions, so that the overall design of the couch was a sort of “S” shape. Jack was sitting on the side of the couch that faced Ianto.

“Sit down. Come on! I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Doing his best to look reluctant and exasperated, Ianto moved to the other side of the couch. If he was being honest with himself, a shiver of anticipation ran through him at Jack’s words. The man tended to have that affect on Ianto. Of course, he didn’t need to know it – such knowledge would only serve to boost his all-too-healthy ego.

Sitting on the couch, Ianto craned his neck backwards, looking at Jack. The other man’s face was close, and within a moment they were kissing: lips pressed against lips, tongues slipping out and tasting each other. Ianto made a muffled sound of discontent as he brought a hand up to grip at Jack’s shoulder, seeking more contact than the awkward couch would allow. Beneath his lips, Ianto could feel Jack just smile into the kiss and deepen it, even as he brought up a hand to cup Ianto’s face. His thumb stroked little lines of fire across Ianto’s cheek, and he moaned, breaking the kiss and moving to get up from the chair.

To his surprise, Jack pushed him down back into his seat, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Jack, come on. I understand your fascination with the ‘kissing couch’,” he reasoned, “but it’s a bit awkward. Let me get up so I can suck you off.” Ianto purposefully dropped his voice down a bit and let his accent come out more on the last few words, knowing the effect dirty talk had on Jack.

To his disappointment, Jack didn’t give in. He certainly _looked_ more aroused – eyes dilating, breathing growing heavier – but Jack shook his head and maintained pressure on Ianto’s arm, keeping him seated.

“Oh no, Ianto. I want to test your creativity, tonight.” He settled into the chair, spreading his legs wider in invitation. Ianto rolled his eyes. “You’re going to figure out how to get the both of us off _without_ leaving your seat.”

Ianto’s eyes narrowed. “Bum on the seat the whole time?”

“Well…” Jack shrugged a shoulder, “if it comes off while you’re coming, that’s alright. But not before then.”

For a moment, Ianto thought. He knew Jack was grinning indulgently at the serious furrow of his brow, but Ianto ignored him. Beating Jack at their games was serious business for him, and made the eventual orgasm all the better when he won. And of course, Jack always found incredible ways to reward his persistence.

A thought flickered through Ianto’s mind. Carefully he turned to Jack, raking his eyes over every inch of the other man’s body. He noted the obscene bulge in the front of Jack’s trousers, and he nodded to himself. Yes…that would do nicely.

With the air of a man alone and bored, Ianto turned away from Jack. Before he could even whimper in protest, however, Ianto had reached down to his own trousers, cupping his own bulge and squeezing it. “Mmm, yeah. You know…” Ianto let his head fall back a little, and his eyes flutter closed. As much as he would like to watch Jack’s reactions, he knew the sight of him with his eyes closed, completely wanton, was an aphrodisiac to Jack. He squeezed his erection again, moaning as he began rubbing and kneading it through the fabric. “You know, I think the designer of this couch had the opposite idea in mind.”

The clatter of a belt buckle and zipper being ripped down told Ianto everything he needed to know about how Jack was dealing with his little show. Indulging himself, Ianto followed suit: undoing his belt and trousers – though less hurried than Jack’s fumblings – and pushed his hand inside. He squeezed the head, rubbing a thumb over it outside of his pants. Soon the fabric was frustrating, and he allowed his hand to slip beneath the elastic and grasp the hot flesh beneath.

As soon as he did, a moan escaped his partner next to him, close enough that Ianto could feel the heat of his breath ghost over his ear. Ianto continued his musing. “I think these couches were designed for a sort of pseudo-privacy.” Next to him, Jack chuckled. The sound was strained, indicating to Ianto the level of Jack’s arousal. Ianto allowed himself a few firm tugs as reward, hand sliding over his cock roughly. He paused long enough to lick his palm, coating it in a thick layer of saliva. He went back to his work fisting himself to the sound of Jack’s fist slapping against his skin.

“I mean, I’m wanking over here, you’re wanking over there…”

“In about a minute I’m going to be _coming_ over here,” Jack complained.

“Jack,” Ianto said sharply. “No interrupting.”

A hitched breath: Jack always loved it when Ianto was commanding. After a moment’s pause, Ianto continued. “It’s practically like we’re in separate rooms. All alone, only our – ah-” Ianto bit down on his lip. His cock twitched and strained as his hand sped up in its movements of its own volition. The _sounds_ Jack was making in his ear: hot, wet sounds. Little whimpers, and cries, and deep, throaty groans. Focusing as much as he could at the moment, Ianto listened to the rhythm of Jack’s breathing. He was close. And the thought of it was pulling Ianto along, drawing him to the edge.

“Only our _fantasies_ for company,” Ianto finally managed to continue.

A loud groan filled Ianto’s ears. “Fantasies, Ianto?”

“Ask nicely.” Ianto forced his hand to slow down in his movements, as tempted as he was to fist himself wantonly and get it over with.

With a strangled groan – this time of frustration rather than arousal – Jack managed to stutter out a single word: “P-p- _please_.”

Into swallowed convulsively. Where Welsh vowels and dirty talk were Jack’s turn-ons, manners and submission were Ianto’s. His tongue darted out, tasting the salt of his sweat forming on his upper lip. “You…tied up.”

“Ties?”

Ianto’s hips thrust and twitched against his will. _Oh_. Jack tied up with his ties… “Blue ones. All blue,” he reassured Jack. “And the…the dildo…”

“Oh, _fuck_ Ianto. The purple one?”

Ianto’s hips were thrusting shamelessly now, as his hand _slapslapslapped_ against his skin. “No. Strawberry. With the vibrator. And new jelly…” Ianto was remembering the other night, when they had tried out the new warming KY Jelly. His groin was burning, fire building under the base of his cock. Just a few more strokes… “And me. Inside you. Next to the vibrator.”

Right against his ear, Jack let loose a loud, filthy, obscenely pornographic groan. Ianto’s eyes were squeezed shut, stars dancing across his vision. So close…

The wet tip of a tongue flicked against Ianto’s taut neck, and Ianto came, sticky come spilling over his hand as his hips thrust viciously into his hand. As his orgasm crested, his thighs trembled and twitched. Oh, they were _so_ bringing out that vibrator next time they had a free night. Or day.

Before Ianto could even pry his eyes open, he felt Jack’s hand snaking over his arm, tugging it up and to his mouth. He moaned as Jack licked sticky fingers clean, getting in between each and sucking them all into his mouth individually.

With a poorly stifled groan, Ianto drew his legs together and stood, adjusting his pants and fastening his trousers. He turned and looked at Jack, who was doing the same while sporting an immense grin. Ianto walked around the couch, straightening Jack’s braces and tucking his shirt in more. With a soft smile, Jack pulled him in to a gentle kiss. “I think you might have won, Ianto Jones.”

Ianto hummed, arching an eyebrow as he started to walk away. He could hear Jack’s heavy boot steps behind him as he followed. “I believe I have.” He chanced a glance over his shoulder, all filthy looks and seductive smile. “Do I get a reward?”

Jack’s steps faltered as a goofy grin split his face. “Oh, _yeah._ _Absolutely_.”

  


End file.
